Still Wear the Scars
by Lissayn
Summary: When Hermione doesn't return from recovering her parents from Australia Ron is left behind to pick up the pieces. But some wounds never fully heal, they only leave scars.


**Still Wear the Scars  
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_**Summary**__: When Hermione doesn't return from recovering her parents from Australia Ron is left behind to pick up the pieces. But some wounds never fully heal, they only leave scars.  
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_**Disclaimers:**__ You know the deal, I own nothing. Well, not nothing, but nothing to do with Harry Potter alas or I would be much richer and perhaps happier. _

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 - In Which There is a Meeting and Memories of the Past<strong>

"Anyone sitting here?" she asked as she plopped down into the booth opposite him.

Arella had noticed the broody red-haired man drinking alone when she walked in. As she waited for her pint at the bar, she recognized just who he was, the war hero, Ron Weasley. But that's not what drove her to approach him. No, it was how he sat there so alone, shoulders slumped totally withdrawn into himself, looking totally lost to the world that caught her attention.

He didn't even look up as Arella settled into the booth. "I'm not interested," he grumbled roughly.

"That's okay," she replied. "I'm not either."

And there they sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

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><p>I had been 468 days since Ron had seen her last. 468 days, 14 hours and 23 minutes to be exact. Funny how he had never been able to keep track of anything, his schedule, his stuff, his thoughts, but this he could keep track of.<p>

He wished now that he had not been smiling as she boarded the train. That way, when she looked back to the last time that she saw him, it could be with sadness or even anger, not with a hopeful smile twinkling in his eyes. If she thought of him that was. Which he was sure she hadn't. If she had, she surely would have come home.

Ron took another big swig of his whiskey.

At first he thought nothing of it, sure that she would return to him shortly. She had gone to find her parents in Australian. Insisted on going alone saying it was something that she had to do on her own. He hadn't wanted her to go, but she really gave him little choice in the matter. He could tell that something had been off with her right before she left. It was, however, only a few days after the battle so he had chalked it up to the millions of emotions that were flooding through everyone, shock, grief, confusion, mourning and yes, relief. She'd be okay when she saw her parents and had them returned safely she insisted. Things would return to normal then. So he helped her pack, took her to the train station, kissed her goodbye and gave her that last lopsided smile as she boarded the train.

But soon the days turned into weeks. His family watched him sympathetically as he haunted the Burrow with worry. He tried everything he could think of to find her, constant inquires with the Ministry, sending out owl after owl and yes, even the delumonator. But try as he might, no trace of her, no word of her was to be found. He felt the same uselessness the same feeling of being lost, the same sickness that he felt after he left during the Horocrux hunt invading his being all over. Was she lost, was she hurt, was she... no she couldn't be dead. He'd have been able to find out that. No, it seemed she was purposely missing. And if he had learned anything about Hermione, as the brightest witch of her age, if she truly wanted to remain hidden, there would be no finding her.

One month and nineteen days after she boarded the train, an owl arrived. It was addressed not to him, but instead to Harry. Her neat even script etched a few simple lines into the parchment - "_I'm fine, however, I am not coming back. Please tell everyone that it is no one's fault and to let me go. I'm sorry._" And that was it. She was gone.

After that, he spent the majority of his hours when not helping George at the shop hanging out in a filthy hole-in-the-wall muggle pub. Harry, Dean and Neville had joined him a few times when he first started coming but had stop coming months ago. Harry had been the last holdout, but even he had finally given up on him. Ron didn't blame them. The place was sketchy at its best and flat out dangerous most of the time. They had tried in vain to get him to relocate somewhere, anywhere. They couldn't understand why he insisted on coming to this particular pub. It hadn't occurred to them that it was directly across from the train station. He no longer consciously held a glimmer of hope that she would come back, but he couldn't let go that maybe, just maybe, if one day she wakes up and finds that she misses him, then she could find him there waiting for in a booth that looked out onto the train station plaza. So there he sat.

And if the atmosphere wasn't bad enough, the company was even worse. And it was not just the other patrons he meant, Ron knew he was no picnic to be around. He had always been a bit moody, but after Hermione had left, he'd become almost insufferable.

"_Get over it," Harry had said to him eventually. "It's been months now. She's long gone and she's moved on. It's time for us to move on with our lives as well." Then Harry had softened. "Look, I know how you feel. She was my best friend too."_

"_Best friend. Yeah. That's it," grumbled Ron without even looking up. _

But that wasn't it, was it? Truth was that Ron and Hermione had crossed the threshold from being friends to being a couple during the summer after 6th year but just hadn't bothered to share the news. It seemed an unnecessary complicated layer to add to the already chaotic mess of the Horocrux hunt and subsequent war. And while they knew they should have waited also, they couldn't help themselves. War was on the horizon and they were young and in love.

It happened a week before they had gone to collect Harry from the Dursley's. A late night talk in the Burrow about uncertain futures and regrets from the past gave way to quiet confessions and even quieter kisses. They made love for the first time the night before Harry arrived, taking advantage of having the bedroom to themselves one last time. While on the run, they stole as many moments away with one another as they could without being found out. In the darkest parts of the nights when Harry was either sleeping soundly or on watch, they would cling together, comforting one another with promises of the future both with words and their bodies. And though that year was one of the most frightening of his life, it was also one of the best in so many ways.

The point was that no one else had a clue about the epic whirlwind romance that had happened right under their noses. From what they saw, he was simply pining over the loss of the best friend that they all figured he had a bit of a crush on. He couldn't decide if it made him seem more, or less pathetic. I mean now, they all thought him a bit mad to not be able to move on from the possibility of the what if that he and Hermione might have shared. On the other hand, the truth was that he had been unable hold onto the love of his life, the girl who had confessed her love for him as well and then left without so much as a proper goodbye. Either way, it wouldn't really change a thing, she was still gone and his friends were still sick of dealing with his moping about it.

So, in the end, they had all eventually shaken their heads and moved on. Even Harry. They left and he stayed. Apparently that's what happened with him.

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><p><em>Thank you for reading and please review. I have this story already pretty much outlined so hopefully I won't go too long in between updates. BTW, I just wanted to mention that this is not an OC romance fic. <em>


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